


The Bootlegger

by QuasarHero



Category: 2 Broke Girls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prohibition Era, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 20:40:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7283959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuasarHero/pseuds/QuasarHero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's prohibition era. Instead purifying the masses like it was supposed to, it's  given birth to organized crime unlike any this country's ever seen. But that means nothing to Max, a waitress in a crappy speakeasy. Things remain dull around here, until her boss gets a new bootlegger. And a curious one at that. How much trouble can one broad get into?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bootlegger

**Author's Note:**

  * For [muaaimoi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/muaaimoi/gifts).



> This work is a gift for the wonderful work she gave me. I had fun coming up with this idea, but actually writing it killed me. I tried to keep it historically accurate, but this is fiction after all.

Max was surprised by just how badly prohibition was going. She knew that whenever any new laws in America prohibiting anything never went over well. Look at the abolition of slavery. But at least that made sense. Though it did kinda lead to war, it didn't give birth to organized crime. Not that Max was complaining, speakeasies pay way more for what is basically being a waitress.

 Max always loved being paid for little effort. There is, of course, the chance of being caught in a police raid. It’s not like she lived in the most upstanding of neighborhoods. But she could always play the dumb helpless broad act and talk her way out of it. Cops always fall for it. For now, things were calm. Well, as calm as things can be when potentially anyone who walks in can be a cop or worse, from a rival speakeasy.

So things were calm as possible as a room full of drunk trigger ready men could be. Max's boss told her that they were getting a new runner today, so she had to be on the lookout. He didn't say what the guy would look like. Only that he'd be sharply dressed and would ask for the 'dinner special with fries.' Which is a safer passphrase than it sounds.  No one asks for the special without also asking a billion questions about it.

It was a pretty slow day, only the usual guys came by. Max was standing at the counter of the diner front, with her head resting in the nest of her arms. She heard the door jingle open and someone stepping inside. Not wanting to tarnish her slacker reputation, she didn't raise her head to see who it was. The footsteps of expensive sounding shoes stopped before her. She still couldn't be bothered to look up.

"Excuse me doll, can I get the dinner special with fries?" A surprisingly light voice said. Max lifted her head to inspect the body the words came from. Long, skinny legs in black slacks.

'What, is this guy a scarecrow?' Max thought. Her gaze rose to his chest to see it was just as slim. She wasn't sure if she should let this guy into the speakeasy or get him a sandwich. A slender neck leading up to a pretty face. A really pretty face. A woman's face. The new bootlegger is a dame?! The look suited her somehow. The size and style of her lid on her bundle of blonde hair and how well her suit fitted her told Max it was a tailored outfit.

 She must be rich.

“You can stare at my rags all you want, you'll need a couple of drinks in me before they come off, toots,” She said with a straight face that cracked a smirk.

“Oh, sorry I thought that-” Max started to say.

 “Save it, I've heard it all before. I'm sure your boss will say it for you.” She said with a roll of her eyes. Max led her to the walk-in freezer. Behind the shelf of "fresh" onions there's another door. Max pushes it open to reveal the speakeasy. Theirs wasn't as elegant as others were. It was a small room with a few dingy tables, not all of which had seats.

The walls were unpainted, leaving the bricks exposed. There was a small window on the right wall. You could see the street through it, to warn others if cops were coming. The bar was stocked with drinks that even if alcohol in general wasn't banned, these definitely would be. Max thought it was a small miracle that no one goes blind after drinking this hooch. But that was of no concern to her.

As long as she got paid, what people damaged their livers with was not her problem. She walked the new bootlegger over to the man who ran this shindig. He was a middle aged man with a dour personality. And though she didn't really know him; Max was sure this wasn't his first time running an illegal operation.

“Boss man, this here is our new runner.” He looked up from the glass he was washing to the surprise standing before him. He frowned at the woman in the suit, looking her up and down.

“You're the new runner?” He asked.

“Yeah, what are you deaf or something? She just said that,” she pointed her thumb at Max

“Sorry, but from the stories I heard about you, I figured you'd be more...manly,” Boss man said.

“And I figured you needed a new runner. But from the way you’re flapping your gums I’m thinking you wanna make some chin music,” The blonde said with a cool face. Boss man put his hands up in surrender,

“Hey I ain’t mean nothin’ by it. Welcome aboard!” he offered his hand to shake. She cocked her head to the side,

“Yeah yeah, get me a drink.” He nervously nodded his head as he went off to get a cup and a bottle. The runner walked over to an empty table and sat down. Boss man poured a drink and gave the glass to Max to give to their new employee. She placed the cup on the table, she went to walk away but the bootlegger gestured for her to sit down as well. Max pulled up a chair and sat across from her.

“Wow, I thought I was sassy. I’ve never seen anybody talk to Boss man like that,” Max said admiringly.

“Who, him? He’s a daisy. What’s his name anyhow?” the bootlegger asked. Max just shrugged.

“I haven’t the foggiest idea. I called him Boss man the whole time I’ve worked here. He doesn’t seem to mind,” Max explained.

“Well, alright. If it works for you.” She took a sip from her cup and gagged. “AWWRK UUGH! What is this, White lightning?!” either the strength or the lack of quality didn’t agree with her.

“I don’t know. I don’t mess with the hooch here, I prefer to feel my limbs in the morning,” Max said.

“Oh well, bottoms up,” the bootlegger shrugged and finished the glass. Her face twisted up in unpleasantness.

“Well I was supposed to show you around, but there ain’t much else to see in this dank little room. But know that door over there,” Max pointed to a door on the back wall. “It’s the only other way out. It only opens one way. It leads out to behind the diner.” Max explained. “Just wanted to tell you before you get too soused.”

“I follow ya.” She pushed the glass away from her. “Lemme get two more”

“Ok, but if you go blind or somethin’, don’t come crawling to me.”

“If you’re the last thing I see, I wouldn’t mind going blind right now.” The bootlegger winked at her with a chuckle. Max, unsure of how to respond to that, picked up the glass and started walking over to the bar. Her blushing cheeks were hidden from the bootlegger just in time as she turned her back.

The next few days were basically the same, with the added ambiguous flirtations from the new kid. It occurred to Max that she never caught her name. She was about to approach her and ask, but then Boss man called them both over to him. They both leaned on the bar waiting for what he had to say.

“We’re running low on giggle water here. I bought some more, all you gotta do is pick it up and bring it back here.” Boss man said while cleaning the bar.

“And the reason you called us both over is?” Max asked.

“Cuz you’re going with her.”

“And why’s that?” the bootlegger asked.

“It’s my policy. ‘Till I know I can trust ya, I’ll send someone with ya.”

“Aww, I’m a trusted employee?”

“Ehh, I just can’t on good conscience send one of these boozehounds with a broad like you… no offense. I know you can probably take care of yourself.”

“I wouldn’t want to spend time with them either. ‘Sides I’ve been looking for some alone time with this one,” The runner joked. Max cleared her throat. She hoped no one saw she was blushing.

“So uhh, where we headed?” Max was used to men hitting on her. She could deal with that. She’s also flirted a bit with women before, but they’re coy about it. This new runner was so upfront. It really threw her off.

Boss man handed a slip of paper to the blonde. She opened it and looked at the words scribbled on it. A frown crossed her face.

“You know the place?” he asked.

“All too well,” She said. Her tone changed from the light, kinda flirty one she just had. It was cold, with a little bit of hurt in it. She put the slip in her pocket and turned to Max,

“Ready to go?” no flirtatious joke or anything. Max wasn’t sure if she liked that or not.

“Uh, yeah,” She finally managed to stutter out. She followed her outside. They both walked to the opposite side of the street to a car parked at the corner.

“I haven’t introduced you two have I?” The usual light tone had somewhat returned to her voice.

“Uhh, who?” Max looked around to see no one.

“Meet Chestnut!” The blonde presented her car to Max.

“Well, I’m much more of a subway girl, so you’ll have to tell me about her.” Max knows how much men liked talking about their cars. If this bootlegger was anything like them, she’d probably talk her ear off. But Max wanted to lift her spirits.

“She’s a modified 1940 Ford Coupe. I don’t wanna bore you to tears with the details, but she’s got an ambulance engine in her.” Max was taken aback. All those times she was getting hit on by drunken horny men who droned on and on about their beauty of a car. Never have any of them said anything as remotely interesting as those seven words.

“An ambulance engine?” Max asked.

“Yeah.”

“That is the cat’s meow! How’d you pull that?” a smile cracked across the runner’s face. Max was glad to see her smiling again.

“Ahh, that’s a story for another time. Let’s get the lead out, babe.” she walked to the other side of the car and opened the door for Max. She saw why she called the car: Chestnut. The seats and the wheel had brown leather. 

“After you Ma’am.”

“And who says chivalry is dead?” Max sat down on the comfy seat. The runner just laughed. She got in the car and started its powerful engine. She took off fast, making Max hit her head.

“Shouldn’t we go a little slower?” Max suggested. The runner laughed again,

“What’re you, the fuzz?” she responded. “Rule one of running hooch is to go fast.”

“It’s just that the train doesn’t go this fast” Max said. The blonde turned to look at her scared face.

“You can hold on to me if you want?” the bootlegger adventured to offer. Max hated, no, deplored actually being the helpless girl. It puffed up a man’s ego to no end and she was never a fan of that. But she supposes this was different. She put her arms around the bootlegger. The blonde simply put her arm down and continued driving with one hand on the wheel.

“Isn’t it dangerous to drive with only one hand?” Max asked. She felt more secure around her, surprisingly, strong arm though. A laugh was the response.

“It’s dangerous to run alcohol when it’s banned too. Why nitpick now?” Max just looked out the window. She watched the few lights that were on in apartment buildings, the streetlights, and the few stars on the horizon zip by. She found it strangely relaxing. What she didn’t find relaxing was the maniac behind the wheel wildly swerving around the few cars they did encounter.

It was about an hour or so ride before they arrived at their location. They hadn’t conversed much on their way there, not that Max wanted it that way. The bootlegger grew more silent and her face more serious as they neared their destination.  They were driving down some road in Central Park. Max had never been before, but she always wanted to visit the zoo here. The few guys she could stomach enough to date thought it’d be boring though.

They had stopped somewhere after driving for a few minutes. They parked under a streetlight. Being the only ones around made Max feel like she was doing something really macabre. While she was doing something illegal, this atmosphere made it feel like she was helping dispose of a body. The runner got out and took off her jacket.

“Open the trunk and wait right here. I’ll be back in a jiff.” She tossed Max the keys and started rolling up her sleeves. She walked off into the park area. Into the darkness. Max opened the trunk and leaned on the side of the car. Being a pretty young woman out in the middle of the night was unsettling enough, hanging around in Central Park wasn’t doing her any favors.

She stood there for what felt like forever. It was chilly out, so she rubbed her arms to gain little warmth. She heard the clinking of bottles as the driver came back. She had an unmarked crate in her hands, the strain on her face let Max know it was heavy.

“Need any help?” she offered.

“Nope just get yer pretty ass in there,” She said walking towards the back of the car. Max smirked and got in just as the crate was dropped making the entire car bounce.

THUNK! The trunk closed and the driver got back in the car. Max handed her the keys and continued to rub her arms.

“You cold?” She asked as she started the car, the engine roaring to life.

“A little,” Max confessed. The driver put her jacket around Max. The brunette smiled,

“Oh, baby you’re too good to me,” she joked. They drove away and Max held on to the bootlegger.

After about a half hour of silence, Max dared to say something.

“What’s eating ya? The few days I’ve known you, you’ve never been this quiet. You never shut your mouth.” Max could see that the bootlegger was considering telling her. She opened her mouth to say something. But then, sirens blared and lights hit the back of the car.

“SHIT!” Was the only thing that came out the driver’s mouth. She turned around to look out the rear window. “Fucking Flatfoots!”

“PULL OVER!”  Blasted out of the P.A.

“What should we do?” Max asked. She was freaking out, she did not want to go to jail, and she doubted her “dumb broad” act would get her out of this. The bootlegger looked Max up and down. She pulled over to the side of the road.

“Sorry in advance for this.” The bootlegger quickly said before busting open Max’s shirt. One button, then two flew off. Before she could protest, the runner had pushed her lips on hers. The kiss was hard, in terms of force applied to it. Yet it was softer than any she ever had. She still wanted an explanation, but she didn’t mind this so far. Then the driver pushed her onto her back.

In between the kisses,

“Just play along ok?” the bootlegger softly said. Max grunted in acceptance, but she wasn’t really sure what she was talking about. Then the knock on the window reminded Max of what was going on. The cop that stood outside the car turned on his flashlight, flooding the front seat with light. The runner put her hand up to shield her eyes and face.

With the other hand she nervously rolled down the window.

“What seems to be the problem officer?” she used a deeper voice.

“Whatcha driving around like a demon for?” the cop demanded to know. He was still shining his flashlight, which worked to their advantage, at least for now.

“Sorry sir, but y’know how babes like to go fast. I just wanted to show off a lil’ bit.” The officer turned his flashlight down to Max, whose shirt was open. She instinctively covered herself and shrieked. The officer jumped at the sound with an embarrassed look on his face. He scratched his head under his helmet, deciding what to do.

“Great, thought you were a bootlegger. Instead you’re just a coupla horny youngins. Alright get out of here, before I write you up! And drive with a little more sense, ya hear?!” The cop declared. The, in fact, bootlegger nodded her head.

“Yessir.” The cop walked back to his car muttering something under his breath, got in and drove off. Max and the bootlegger waited for a half a minute before they both bursted out laughing.   

“Can’t believe that worked!” the runner said with a bright smile on her face.

“And here I was just thinking you kiss every girl you run hooch with,” Max teased. The bootlegger chuckled. In response she said,

“Well, I like to know the dame’s name first before I do.” She smiled at her. Max dropped her head in embarrassment.

“I never introduced myself did I?” she asked, already knowing the answer. The bootlegger simply shook her head.

“Well, allow me to fix that. I’m Max. Max Black.”

“That’s a pretty name.” Max blushed at the comment.

“How ‘bout you stud? You got a name, or you gonna keep a girl waitin’?”

“Caroline. Caroline Channing,” she said. Max bit her lip hoping to get the point across. It did as Caroline went back down for a kiss, this time far less rushed and with more feeling. Max wrapped her legs around her as they both moaned into each other’s mouths. They continued to make out on a dark lonely road in the middle of the night.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> leave a comment, a kudos, reccoomend this to a friend all love is much appreciated


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